The man in the jar

I still cannot finish this new song and it is driving me nuts. Work was slow today because most people have begun their holiday break. It was two above zero on the way downtown and the only thing keeping me together was my iPod. The office was bare and once again I felt caged, or like a dude in a jar. But it's alright. There's tomorrow and then my holiday begins and continues until January 6. It will be a frantic first month of the year because I am planning a move that has been almost a year in the making. I will be heading south and looking for new work. I am still considering the Peace Corps as well and teaching. We'll see what happens. The most important thing is that I will be able to see my girlfriend everyday. It will be so great to be done with long distance love! I will post a new short story that I have been chipping away at when it is done, but if it isn't up until next year then I wish everyone a happy holiday season!

Tundra

Today is one of those days that is so cold that you feel like your limbs will fall off before you even get in the car to go anywhere. Spent most of the day mixing a new song, recording bass parts and writing another new one. Yesterday I finished the artwork for the official release of Good Morning, Hummingbird. It is below.



It will be out in January on Series Two in the US and Canada, Vollwert in the EU, Fraction in Scandanavia and Apple Crumble in Japan. I am going to curl up in my sleeping bag and watch this History Channel show that I just got from the library on cannibalism. I know, random.

Top ten places

Here is a list of the top ten places that I want to visit in my lifetime:

10. Thailand
9. Poland
8. Iran
7. Norway
6. Mongolia
5. Brazil
4. Patagonia (mainly the Chilean side)
3. Kazakhstan
2. Faroe Islands
1. Ethiopia

Kazakhstan

Okay, so this may seem random, but I really want to go to Kazakhstan. Other than being a former Soviet republic and the completely fictional escapades of Borat, not many know what it is all about.

Oddly enough, Kazakhstan is on the top of my list of places to visit--- along with Chile, Argentina, New Zealand and the Faroe Islands. But why Kazakhstan people ask?

I don't have a good answer. Other than being the ninth largest country by area in the world, it is mainly open space. When I read Michael Pollan's book, The Botany of Desire, I learned that apples are native to southeastern Kazakhstan, near the city Almaty (which literally means city of apples or something like that). The city is known for its mountains (the massive Tian Shan mountains are minutes from city limits) and apple orchards. It would be cool to interview horticulturalists.

After querying numerous magazines with my idea to visit Kazakhstan to a resounding 'no,' it is back to the drawing board. Maybe someday soon!

Old Blue

Old Blue

My mom found a cobalt hoodie for me in one of those Carhartt stores years ago. I must have been 14. Whenever it was cold enough outside for a sweater, on it would go. I wore it through most of middle school, all of high school and until the last few weeks of college. It had a hole in the right hand pocket that had been sewn countless times and smelled like trees. Both pockets had innumerable holes from one inch My Bloody Valentine and Velvet Underground buttons. But I didn’t mind.

In college, many of my friends would spot the hoodie to identify me in a crowd. It appeared in 95 percent of all photos and was even used as a pillow several times on my trip to Iceland. And now it is gone.

I don’t mind, really. An ex-girlfriend hijacked old blue and it remains lost in the shuffle. Even though some of my friends are nostalgic for it, I dismiss the longing with a feeble shrug. There are times when it would be nice to wear it again, but nothing lasts forever and time marches on.

Perhaps in my subconscious I didn’t ask to reclaim what was mine because there are more hoodies out there. Or maybe it was just growing up.

After the loss, I went hoodie shopping with one of my good friends at Target and bought one in dark green. It isn’t the same, but gets the job done!

112?!

Apologies for not posting anything for the past month. I will post new writings shortly, and there are many pieces to post! Firstly, I wanted to congratulate everyone who I worked with on the Barack Obama campaign. We did it! I enjoyed every minute of canvassing, phone banking and sharing stories with all of you.

Secondly, I wanted to share a link to today's BBC. I have the day off work because of Veteran's Day here in the States. For much of the world, it is Armistice Day, the celebration of the end of WWI. Today marks the 90th anniversary, and this article highlights the four oldest veterans of the war. They are ages 112, 110, 108 and 107. To me, it is unbelievable that these four are still living. I cannot imagine what horrors they faced in the trenches. For them to still be with us to tell the tale is a cause for celebration. I do not believe that war is just and I am not into military history like some people. But I recognize the difficulty that these four people faced and hope that my children will never have to face such horror. They fought so we don't have to. I hope that I live to be 112...

The Console War Shake Things Up With New E.P.

These are perilous times by no stretch of the imagination. People are losing their savings, consumer confidence is at its lowest levels in decades and the term “indie” has very little to do with bands who set out on an independent path of distribution and touring. We are living in the age of the digital download, where most only listen to their compiled tracks in transit. Mind you, there is nothing wrong with that. The ease and convenience of a download has revolutionized the way we approach and listen to music. But as songwriter Bob Mould recently said, “We are living in an age where music isn’t sacred.” Rarely do we sit alone or in good company listening to an album, taking it in. The Console War’s new E.P. “Cut the Cables” is an exception.

The D.C. duo of Brian Young (guitars, loops, keys, vocals) and Billy Copps (drums, keys, vocals) has always had an affinity for the ethereal, cerebral and angular. Both have been in numerous bands together for the better part of this decade and formed the ‘War in 2005. After their formidable 2007 debut L.P., “Shards,” they played numerous shows in the D.C. area and were back at work on this year’s “Cut the Cables” E.P. The five songs pack a punch that has been rare in this year’s releases.

“Cut the Cables” functions as an air tight unit that should be taken in one sitting. Each track builds on the last, culminating with the demented carnivalesque keyboard drone, thundering toms and looped guitars of “Lines of Communication,” the set’s most emotionally wrenching. The middle half engulfs Kraftwerk’s hypnotic rhythms (“Cut the Cables”) as well as the hauntingly sparse abstractions of Slint and other Touch & Go bands from the 90s like Don Caballero. “Ship of State” is a solid midpoint showing a band who can build layers of momentum while keeping listeners waiting for the next turn.

“View From Down Here” is a gem. A dead ringer for the seminal D.C. group Beauty Pill, it also evokes the ethereal quality of early 90s English shoegazers Slowdive with Young’s fuzzed out guitar loops at the end. “Pipe or Gun,” sets the tone as the opener with Copps’ eerie electronic work and deafening drum breaks mid-song.

Ultimately, “Cut the Cables” shows lots of promise for this sonically tight duo. Sitting in a room with the lights out as it blares from the stereo is enough to make us feel that music can indeed be sacred again.

Listen at www.myspace.com/theconsolewar.

The stars at night, are big and bright...

17.07.08 6ish a.m. en route to Milwaukee Int'l Airport en route to Dallas, TX

The flight was kind of surreal because there were only six people on board…I counted. I felt uneasy because there was a creepy middle-aged woman who was ticketed in the back of the plane, but moved up to the seat in the row directly next to mine and I kept seeing her stare out of my periphery. Haven’t you seen anyone read a book lady?

This is a completely random observation, but U2’s first album, “Boy,” is freaking superb. It is such a shame that this band, who were as punk and edgy (no pun intended) as anyone turned into this caricature of their former selves. On the other hand, that may just be Bone-O, (sorry, Bono) since everyone else in the band is at his mercy. But this record, “War,” and “Joshua Tree” were such great records that the rest of their horrid career doesn’t even matter.

Ireland in the 1980s was a volatile time, and U2 were the musical nonconformists who gave the Irish people hope in a time of hopelessness. It was practically a pariah state, regarded as the most underdeveloped nation in Western Europe. It is a miracle how in 2008, Ireland is one of the most prosperous nations on Earth. It’s about time after 800 plus years of English oppression and civil war. To say that this was all heavy shit is an understatement, but at least we have “Boy.”

To all of the naysayers---pick up a copy of “Boy.” The Edge’s guitar work is truly gorgeous and his tone is near perfect. Bono sounded like a punk rock siren in those days, belting out every line as if his life depended on it. Larry Mullen’s drumming is superb and thick and Adam Clayton’s sparse bass work sets a darker tone than on any other record that they have made, save “War.”

I never thought that these guys would give me the chills, but after listening to the epic centerpiece “An Cat Dubh,” I am trembling.

21.07.08 9:53 a.m. Milwaukee Int’l Airport

I am still reading The Fish Can Sing, another Halldor Laxness novel. It is a mix of Kurt Vonnegut’s wry wit with Gabriel Garcia-Marquez’s poetics.

On Friday, Jamie and I left for Austin. I had wanted to go there for years. Ever since I got into music and heard about SXSW it was always somewhere that I had to see. The three hour drive from Dallas was more impressive than I thought it would be. After the hour-long trek out of Dallas city limits (it sprawls forever…and ever) the bigger sky leads way to vast open spaces with nothing more than a few barns on the horizon. The Texan countryside is mainly grassland, unlike other rural areas that I am familiar with. Any crops would probably be scorched from the blistering summer sun. Humongous Cumulus clouds are layered like cakes and stand frozen in time. It is a nice snapshot of what Texas probably was in the days of the cattle outposts.

The landscape is barren, but not as arid as images of Texas may conjure. The true desert does not begin until west Texas, which is easily a good 10 hour drive in light traffic. It is also not like the pancake flat plains of Dallas, which more closely resembles the Midwest but with more buildings. These grasslands are semi-arid and look like deserts with short, bristly grass and those squat, nubby trees that would not be out-of-place on the Serengeti or other savannahs.

At dusk with our tune blasting, nothing else mattered. The golden and red colors at the horizon made the 105F (40.5 C) day bearable. Austin was smaller than I expected, but was excellent nevertheless. Almost all of the quirky shops, bars, and venues were on 6^th street, which also leads up to the Texas State Capitol building. Again at dusk, the view of the Capitol, which is on a slight incline, is breathtaking.

Jamie and I had dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant on 6^th street and we both ordered their Pho to see how it compared to other places. The décor was pretty trendy and pretentious. The wall was covered in huge blow-up 16 X 24 NYC photos. The Pho was great, but not as good as my Pho place in Cleveland! Note to everyone- Pho Hoa (or Superior Pho) is the best Vietnamese place ever.

We must have walked up and down the main drag a dozen times, people watching and looking for somewhere without shitty music to get a drink. Naturally, the weekend that I go there are no good gigs coming to Austin. I guess I will just have to go back in the fall when everyone and their mom will be playing! So we opted for hanging out in a green space near the Capitol and watched an insane homeless man who looked like he escaped from a psych ward minutes before (still wearing his hospital scrubs) got on a city bus. After that, we finally settled on a bar, but left within five minutes because there was no AC and the temp was still ridiculous. So we hopped to another bar but it was creepy and empty. Finally there was a cozy spot with a middle-of-the-road alt rock cover band playing and we had a couple of beers and talked about random things. It is crappy to be in a long-distance relationship, but it is so true that the time you do spend together is so much more valuable!

Drained from the day, we drove back to our campsite after that one bar. Yes, we went camping in Texas in July…why?! Because we are warriors! No, but seriously, it was unforgiving and I will never do that again in such punishing heat.

The tent was easily 20 degrees hotter because there was no breeze at night and we had to keep it zipped so critters wouldn’t come in. It was one of the worst nights of sleep in my life, no question. I couldn’t get cool and the sweat wasn’t evaporating off of my skin and all I could think of was that this must be what Malaria is like.

For a first proper camping experience (you heard that correctly) I had a great time. There is no one better to go with than Jamie, who has been doing it since she was in the womb practically. I learned from the master! I eventually drifted into a light sleep and woke up the next morning to those perfect skies that described on the trip down here. I also couldn’t stop taking photos of the wild cacti that grew like weeds around the perimeter of the state park. We packed up shop and headed south to San Antonio.

…………………………………………………..

It took about an hour and-a-half to get to San Antonio from Austin. It is decidedly different because it looks more like a colonial Mexican city. It is also surprisingly compact and the Alamo sits in the center of town, unlike in a vast field of nothing as Hollywood would like you to believe. It was crawling with tourists, surprise, surprise.

The river walk was pleasant but looks artificial, even though it is real. We had a late lunch that this ridiculously good Mexican restaurant. It is pretty much as close to authentic as you can get in the States because San Antonio is about three and-a-half hours from the border. Fresh tortillas, tomatillo enchiladas, sweet chips and Tecate beer hit the spot times 800. Being so far south makes me want to visit Mexico more. Mexican culture permeates the city not only in the food but in the people---we saw dozens of cars with Mexican license plates. San Antonio is a winner and I will be back!

21 July 2008, en route back to Cleveland

I don’t understand business travelers. Seeing people fiddle about with Excel spreadsheets and Blackberry’s on board my early morning flight back up north got my gears grinding. Shouldn’t they have prepared for whatever they needed to do prior to their flight?

To the uptight dude sitting diagonally from me:

Honestly, is it that difficult for you to relax for TWO FREAKING HOURS? I don’t care what you do for a living, but no one is *that* busy. If you aren’t prepared for your presentation, client meeting or what have you by the time that you are mid air to your destination, don’t you think that your chances of being prepared when you land and arrive at your destination are SLIM-TO-NONE?! Read a book that you have been itching to read for a while or catch up on sleep for godsake!

Probably My Son Tune

After 10 years of recording and playing gigs, I am finally signed to a record label (albeit small!) Well, kind of...

The song "Worth Every While" will appear on the upcoming Series Two Records compilation. It is based out of Omaha, NB and the guy who puts out the records/ compilations also does booking for bands worldwide, so hopefully some doors will open. I am cautiously optimistic.

Other bands on this comp. are from Croatia, Germany, Canada, Denmark, New Zealand, Indonesia, Japan, Norway, Finland, US, Mexico, etc. It should be interesting to see where this goes!

The mornings are always young

I just finished reading Independent People by Halldor Laxness. Check it out if you dig Garcia-Marquez or Faulkner.

That jukebox in the corner blastin' out my favorite song...

...the nights are getting warmer, it won't be long
won't be long 'till summer comes...
now that the boys are here again

I just wanted to add that it is so difficult when I take walks and blast Thin Lizzy on my iPod because I really want to pump my fist in the air and do air guitar, but don't want to be taken for insane. Yep, Phil Lynott has that intense of an effect on me.

I love "Jailbreak" to pieces. In addition (but unrelated), I just heard the greatest New Order compilation ever. It has 7" and 12" alternate versions of every single that they released in their 27 year career. It is simply called "Singles" and has a leaf on the cover. Check it out!

No habitat

I was just thinking the other day about how much I miss record shops. I used to work in a grocery store and I would get tips from old ladies and suburbanites because we had a service where you could pull up to the curb and have your groceries loaded into your car (but that can be an entirely different story). Every week, I would save up all of my tips and go to the record store to peruse the aisles. Since they have been declining steadily in sales around the country, there are fewer places to visit and the joy of the mom and pop record store is rapidly becoming a faded memory.

I think that everyone has their own store. Mine was My Generation on the west side of Cleveland. It closed its doors four years ago after staying in business for two decades. A part of me died. Now I go to Borders and sometimes see other My Generation regulars, thumbing through the new releases, leaving empty handed.

We are like deer without habitat.

It has already been two years?!

A meditation from my book Smash Your T.V. and Have Adventures:

I miss the way that it rains in Reykjavík. In the morning when you wake up, you can barely hear the whispering cadence that the water makes on the window. I hate the way the rain falls elsewhere––droplets the size of my thumb print hit the Earth. Reykjavík is misty––the rain gently embraces your body. I wish that the feeling could last forever. Sometimes if you stop thinking so much, you can hear the wind whistle in time to the shower.

Ride an Effing Bike!

I was thinking about melting down all the cars in the whole world, Making brand new mountain bikes for all the boys and the girls -Jeff Ott

At last I am free. With gas prices hitting all-time highs every day of the week, I have taken a radical step forward by riding my bike at all times except for long hauls and to work because my office is nowhere near a bus line. So I am doing a Morgan Spurlock-esque experiment, tipping my hat to his work in “Supersize Me” and the TV series “30 Days.” Who knows how long it will work out, but I may as well try because gas prices will continue to rise and I love biking. It is such a great way to see your world for what it is really worth.

Today, for instance, I rode to the bank because I needed to deposit a check and some cash. I have been biking to the bank for years because it is ten minutes from where I live, but today made me more cognizant of how impractical it is to drive anywhere in my community. The town where I live is pretty hilly and going down the inclines adds great natural speed, even though the climb is a big laborious.

I am always surprised at how unkind the roads are to pedestrians and cyclists. I shouldn’t be fazed by it, but it is difficult to not be upset when the odds are stacked in favor of motorists. At one cross walk after another, the button for crossing is out of commission and whenever I do have a chance to cross, I barely make it because some moron in an SUV inches toward me like a vampire invading the crosswalk space. I don’t think that I will ever get over things like this because they lack basic levels of respect for well-being.

If more people decided to cycle, then the world would not be as tense. It improves balance and is one of the best things that you can do for yourself if weight loss is your mission. It is such a shame that it is still not taken seriously here as one of the most energy efficient modes of transport. The car has been of major focus to happiness and the fulfillment of aspirations because of conglomerations like GM who instilled the car culture mentality into American minds as early as the 1950s. In reality, they only emit carcinogens into our atmosphere, raise blood pressures, and encourage all things sedentary, leading to the “obesity epidemic” that the American media has a tizzy over.

There is an easy and cost-effective solution: RIDE AN EFFING BIKE! A bike! Two wheels and a seat! I don’t know about you, but I feel so much better, even cleansed, after biking. Whenever I drive, I feel drained and irritable. No matter what, I love my bike, even though it is 12 years old, has a slightly bent front wheel, and makes a squeaking sound that gets on my nerves.

The past month or so

I haven’t written in a while because it has been a blurry month. Since I returned from the tour, it seems like things have really picked up. Work was pretty frantic for a while because of the end of the year slew of news releases that I wrote before commencement (I am a publicist at a local college) and I also played my first show in nearly six months with this band, Debutante, from Pittsburgh, PA. They remind me a lot of Portishead in their approach to stoic electronics and delicate female vocals. This was my second time playing with them and it was great to catch up on our lives. It was nice to see my friend, Cari, as well. She is now a bartender at the venue and is also the most hardcore cyclist that I know. She is gearing up for a North American bike tour this summer. I hope that everything works out for her. We used to work at a bookstore together and bonded over our love for My Bloody Valentine, who are back together and playing their first shows since 1992! The sky has fallen.

I thought that the gig went well, considering that I had barely picked up an instrument since I finished recording “Hummingbird” in late January. It was great to have Jamie there too---she was able to come up for the weekend to hang out since we hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks. Our favorite moment of the night was this kid who was no more than six that had a Michael Jackson fixation. He walked into the venue with his dad and walked around to every table with a Barbie-sized “Thriller” doll. Jamie was asking him questions about his favorite songs and he enthusiastically said, “All of them! ‘Billie Jean,’ ‘Thriller,’ ‘Can’t Stop Till You Get Enough,’ ‘Beat It.’ All of them!!” We were trying so hard not to laugh. He proceeded to moonwalk. True story.

The following weekend, Jamie and I decided to take a random road trip to Canada. For all of our various adventures around the globe, we both found it odd that Niagara Falls was somewhere we had never been. So after work on Friday, she drove up to Cleveland and a few hours later, we were at our hostel. I thought that it was going to be alright because I booked an HI hostel, but it was pretty dumpy and the price was not as it was listed on hostelworld.com. I sucked it up. Our room had a TV, which was odd and a total unnecessary luxury. We spent our first night channel surfing and talking about random things.

I love Canadian TV. I am really interested in the cultural differences between Americans and Canadians because more often than not, there is a disregard for Canada as a separate nation by many Americans who know no better. Canadian TV is one of those subtle differences. For one, there are at least a half dozen French stations from Quebec, as well as the CBC, CTV, and Much Music. Flipping channels here made me *gasp* enjoy the programming! Sure, there are the crappy reality shows that pollute American airwaves, but the multicultural programming is certainly one of the strongest differences. Jamie noticed it immediately. We woke up to a local program that resembled one of those reality singing shows, but it catered to the Filipino population of Ontario. It was called “Filipino, Eh?” and we thought that it was hysterical. All of the contestants were so terrible that I prefer a cat fight in the middle of the night.

The falls were impressive and don’t need any sort of introduction. The hoards of tourists from around the world detract a bit from its intrinsic beauty, but the Horseshoe Falls are impressive even with all of the oglers. After an hour or two, we shrugged and tried to figure out what to do with the rest of our day. So we decided to randomly drive to Toronto and didn’t regret it at all! I only wish that we stayed at the backpacker’s hostel in downtown Toronto for the second night because we didn’t nearly have as much time there as we wanted. It is a gorgeous place that is super livable. The modern glass skyscrapers coupled with its lakefront views made me instantly fall in love with the place. Its proximity to the States is fascinating in that it functions much differently and feels more multicultural than even New York. I prefer it to New York without a question. The cleanliness and efficiency of the city makes me want to live there. So, how about that work visa? ;)

It was one of the best weekends that I have had in a while. Now I am just trying to figure out where to go next and how I will get to wherever I am going. After several more job interviews and not much luck, I still have the freedom to go off on another (albeit brief) tour. I am aiming for the fall, ideally late September or October. It maybe another solo trip, but I’m not sure at this point. If I have any takers, I would love to go with someone. The dollar is still weak against the currencies of most places that I want to visit, but I am beginning to not care. If not at the end of this year, then hopefully by the beginning on next. My life is in limbo right now because I am waiting for the right time and opportunity to move but have yet to land a job. But I will hopefully be elsewhere by the summer. I have been out of school for exactly one year and am ready for this stasis to end and for my life to begin.

Thursday, 3 April 2008, 10:08 a.m., Munich International Airport/ So long!

So this is the end. It was pouring rain when I left Salzburg yesterday and the bus ride to the train station was decent. Rolled into Munich around noontime yesterday and checked into Wombat's, which is perhaps the greatest hostel in the world! It is way nicer than most three-star hotel chains. It is the only hostel that I have ever been to in Europe or in North America that has a private bathroom in *every* room! It was spotless too. Lap of luxury, friends. Lap of luxury.

After I checked in, I walked around the city for a final time around Marienplatz and elsewhere. I don't know how anyone could ever get over the glockenspiel. It really touches a raw nerve because it is so out-of-place, yet makes perfect sense all the while. When I was waiting for the S-Bahn this morning, a nebbish businessman approached me and spoke English very, verrrryyyy slllooowwwlllyyy because he wanted to know if the S8 traveled to the airport. I played along for a second and said yes and then proceeded to ask him where he was from. Looking embarrassed that he mistook me for a non-English speaker, he said Chicago. It turns out that he was also on my same flight, go figure.

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6:45 a.m. en route to Washington, D.C.

I had my first cup of coffee that was decent in many days. It is kind of sad that United Airlines has better coffee than I could afford on this tour! I really don't want this feeling to end. Ever. For as lonely as times got, it really was the life for me. I knew it when I went to Iceland a couple of years ago and I know it now. I cannot wait for the next adventure, whenever or wherever that may be. I think that South America is a possibility, but I need to pick up a bit of Spanish, Portuguese, and Quechua. Hey, if I can get by with rudimentary Slovak phrases, then I can do anything! Patagonia calls my name. I want to go to Tierra Del Fuego at the southernmost tip of Chile the most. Jamie and I might be able to visit Brazil in the near future if the fares decrease a bit because she has friends living near Sao Paulo I think. The traveler's life is for me.

This world is so vast that it is difficult to comprehend. But through struggles and differences among people comes understanding for the better of yourself, as well as your native culture. Once we as a collective humanity learn that we aren't all the same culturally and that we can acknowledge our differences and use them for the better of our world, then real progress can occur for all of us. Until then, governments will continue to control their peoples with fear and coercion, and immigrants will be ghettoized in their adoptive nations. The experience of traveling independently is like no other because you see firsthand how locals live and how your lives overlap and differ. Struggling is part of the beauty. If there is no struggle, then it isn't real.

As much as I wanted to be with people during the heights of loneliness throughout, it was refreshing to have no ties to anyone or anything. All I can think about right now is the next step, the next adventure, and all of the people that I have yet to meet. Once you start traveling, it is so difficult to stop. The only things that stand in the way are finances and jobs. Working is necessary to finance experiences like this. I need to find a job where I can travel readily. In time, in time!

As I wrote in my first entry before the tour began, there must be something encoded in our DNA that calls for movement from place-to-place, from here-to-there. Humans were not meant to lead sedentary lives in offices. It counters our physiology. Therefore, a nomadic state of being is natural. After all, humans were nomadic hunter/gatherers for hundreds of thousands of years! To me, the only thing that makes sense is to keep going. I don't care if it is four days, seven days, 10 days, 21 days, 88 days, what have you. I have to keep going.

Ian Wright, the Globe Trekker host, once said, "There is nothing magical about a rucksack, passport, and boarding pass. You just do it, meeting new people and exchanging ideas along the way. There is no rule." Wright is very true. That is what travel should be about! Home is meant to be left at home. It is about getting so far out of your comfort zone that you struggle a bit, learn about the local culture, and exchange stories, all the while returning home with an expanded worldview. The hard part is letting go and allowing yourself to take the plunge. You learn to rely on yourself, and that translates across cultures. There are no rules.

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Monday, 7 April 2008, 9:18 a.m., Cleveland, OH, my front porch

I live a few minutes away from Lake Erie and it is always nice to come home to a body of water, even when it is still frozen. I thought that I would wait for a few days to do the final entry from this tour so I could decompress, sleep, and make sense of it all. I don't know if I will ever know what all of this means. I am glad that none of this is self-evident. If I could understand it all, then I would be doing myself a disservice. Now I sit on my front porch with morning coffee listening to The Microphones. It is funny how things always stay the same here. The feeling of "home" is here and always has been. My eyes have been opened even further. I feel more aware and completely unaware at the same time. I would rather be unsettled than content. The more freedom that you allow yourself to have, the more complex your worldview becomes. Independent travel is frustrating, stressful, painful, humbling, upsetting, heartbreaking, boring, exciting, liberating, and unforgettable at the same time. It is both a physical drain and rejuvenating. But I wouldn't have it any other way and I do not intend on stopping anytime soon. After the final flight to Cleveland Hopkins Int'l and the long walk through the terminal, I can only think about doing it again. And again.

Tuesday, 1 April 2008, 12:51 p.m., Salzburg, Austria, Mirabell Gardens

The day has been nice and rainy. Had brekkie in the hostel because it was free, watched Austrian news and CNN world, and walked around old town for a few hours. I like Salzburg the best as the waterlogged place that it is today. I think that the rain makes the buildings glimmer. It is 12 C (55ish F) I am amazed by the care for bicyclists and pedestrians here. The entire city has bike lanes in the street, as well as separate pedestrian lanes.

I am sitting in the Mirabell Gardens after visiting the Mozart Museum (his childhood home) this morning. It was alright and I received a "student" discount because I had my old Denison University I.D. on me. The museum was not as cool as just being in his abode and thinking about how I was standing in a place where his formidable years were spent. I'm so glad that I found the gardens. They are vast and symmetric to a T. Greek god(dess) statues flank the sides of the land plots and there is a humongous fountain near one of the entrances. I just took a sound sample of the French choir girls who were singing in the gardens. I think that it is the same group from the hostel.

I am ready to head back home I suppose. I have been completely alone for the past four days since leaving Alix and Hanna in Prague. They have made it to Italy now for sure. I miss my family and Jamie. It will be nice to use my phone again on Thursday! I really need to get Skype...

Seeing as this is the end of the tour, I decided to make a list of everything that I WILL NOT miss about Europe:

1) Paying to use the bathroom

2) Inconsiderate drivers who drive at crazy fast speeds down side streets

3) The annoying kids on school trips who I have to navigate through

4) The poor exchange rate between the Dollar and Euro

5) Nescafe/no decent coffee

Here is what I WILL miss---absolutely everything else.

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9:11 p.m.

I decided to hike up to the castle again in broad daylight. It was far more interesting at dusk when there are no people around except for the locals. I love Austria for the majestic landscapes, but it is bizarre how eerily quiet everything is. I would go insane if I had to live here. It is so small, too small. I already had four years of claustrophobia going to school at Denison. Salzburg is so sleepy that I feel like I am nodding off writing this! It is barely 9 p.m. and I can't keep my eyes open. I ordered a pint of Gosser at the hostel bar and am just writing. I'm not sure if I am tired because of Salzburg's lack of energy or from the tour running its course. I suppose that it has been a bit of both.

This trip has been incredible, but I think that it is time to go home. It's time to re-evaluate things at home and to figure out where I want to live, buy a car, work on new music, what have you. I am so lucky that I was able to get this together and leave for so long. I have covered more ground in two weeks than I ever imagined. The loneliness is beginning to take hold of me. I don't know how people like Daniel do it. He harvests kiwi fruit in New Zealand right now. What a life---wish it was mine.

Monday, 31.03.08, 6:27 p.m., Salzburg, Austria

Rolled into Salzburg around three or four in the afternoon. I changed my Slovak Crowns into Euro and didn't receive much in return, as expected. Took bus #5 into town. In terms of an urban area, Salzburg may be the most gorgeous place that I have ever seen. The view from my hostel window is the enormous castle and the Alps! I laughed and stood for a half hour marveling at how perfect Salzburg is. I wanted to hop online to let everyone at home know that I arrived in Austria safely, but 20 minutes was a whopping 3 euro! I decided to pass and grab some dinner at the hostel, which was 6 euro---total bang for buck seeing as a coffee and street food would be the same price. I wanted vegetables too because I couldn't remember the last time that I consumed greens.

After filling up at the hostel, I walked around Salzburg to get my bearings and figure out how to hike up to the castle. I felt like K. in Kafka's Castle novel! Salzburg is much different from other places that I have visited because of its small size and its majesty. It is very medieval, perhaps on par with Prague in those terms. However, it feels like an overgrown town rather than a booming metropolis. The alps and castle surround the town. At every single angle. This place is regal without the pomp and is relatively free of annoying tourists. I just kept inching toward the castle and followed the only road that goes up. I saw a few younger people going for en evening jog after work and a middle aged couple holding hands on a stroll. I hope that I will be that happy when I am older.

I am relieved to be out of Slovakia, though I am glad that I had the chance to go. Everything seems a bit clearer now. Slovakia by most standards is a developing nation that will hopefully continue to develop at the rapid rate that it is moving at right now. EU membership is helping tremendously. It is still very much of Eastern Europe, as is Prague outside of old town and tourist areas. That is plain to see in the clothes worn to the quality and age of your Skoda car. The older ones were produced in the former Czechoslovakia and now the main plant is in Germany because it was bought by Volkswagen. Regardless, there is much old world to be had in Prague and in the rest of the Czech Republic. Salzburg is a different breed.

For one, it is so tranquil, sleepily so. Could it be the Salt Lake City of Europe? Quite possibly. Looking out over Salzburg in the half-light is stunning, but I miss Prague and even Bratislava. Bratislava has some really charming parts and the old town looks gorgeous in the light. Looking up at Salzburg Castle at dusk was surreal. It looks much like Dracula's castle, creepy in the best of ways. Werner Herzog should have shot scenes for his Nosferatu remake here! I guess it was too close to home for him (he is a Munich native). I am getting used to the loneliness now. It is just me and this majestic place, a city fit for a king.

Monday, 31.03.08, 11:48 a.m., Vienna, Austria, Westbahnof Station, en route to Salzburg

Today has been a pretty cool day connection-wise. So far, I woke up at 6 a.m. without a beat, checked out, and got on a bus to the station. After the ordeal of wandering far outside of central Bratislava, I had no problems getting back. A word to the wise---always, *always* get sugar in your coffee if you order from a vending machine in Slovakia. I didn't and it was so bitter and tasteless that I thought I was going to shrivel up and die. I drink coffee black almost always, but this was some vile shit. I couldn't finish it and instead bought another coffee *with sugar* in an effort to use up Slovak Crowns. I went to the upper level of the station to people watch. I completed another transaction in Slovak with no English as well! Ordered real coffee (I equate that with anything other than Nescafe) and a Nutella-filled croissant. It was a nice breakfast on the way to my bus. The trip into Vienna was just over an hour, if that. The Austrian border is just about 15 minutes from Bratislava. It is so hard to believe that less than a half hour separates shabtastic Bratislava from sylvan Austria. Developing to developed.

Austria is gorgeous, but not as you would expect. It isn't the decadent palace of Earthly delights that the media would like you to believe. There is some of that, I'm sure, but it is pretty much a mix of classes, similar to what I have seen in Germany. The two women sitting in my compartment are French and we conversed briefly about how hot the train compartment is. I'm glad that I was able to use some of my French language skills, even though they are slipping since I have not had a French class since November 2003! I try to keep up by watching French and Quebecois news on SCOLA.

Vienna was very nice. I only had the chance to spend a few hours there, but I walked into town and snapped some photos of the stunning architecture. I also went into "Hoffer" (Aldi) to shop. I bought mineral water and beer. I am pretty sure that I prefer Prague to Vienna, but it is still fantastic. The train that I am on is pretty fantastic. Austria is not quite as flat as Germany or Moravia. There are more gentile rolling hills like in Ohio. I head back home on Thursday, but now it is time to keep smelling the roses...

Sunday, 30.03.08, 12:16 p.m., Bratislava, Slovakia, Old Town

The bus ride that I wrote the previous entry from was alright. The trip was a bit over four hours. I slept for most of the way. Crossing the Czech nation by train and bus in its entirety is very cool. Bohemia is lovely and hilly, which Moravia is flat like Germany, but far poorer. I got into Bratislava's bus station near noontime. And I thought that the Czech Republic was off the beaten path---this place is a time warp or a bad Twilight Zone episode. The bus station is this dilapidated box that looks like something out of the early 70s, more Skoda cars from the 80s, and garbage everywhere. Slovakia...yeah.

I looked for bus 202 to get to my hostel, but I cannot find it, so I start wandering around. I saw signs for a Tesco and knew that my hostel was across from one. So I just sucked it up and walked. And walked. And walked. Time escaped me and three hours passed. It was so frustrating because all I wanted was sleep and a shower. I worked up the nerve to walk into a gas station and ask for directions with my map handy. In Slovak (pretty much the same language as Czech, though a different dialect) I say hello and asked if they spoke English. The woman said yes and was so kind as to tell me that I needed to get on tram # 5 to reach my street, Spitalska. I thanked her, bought a ticket across the street from the gas station, and got on the tram to my hostel, which I hit in 15 minutes. Check-in was easy and I took my first real shower in four days (minus the "hosing down" in Prague). Then I got ready for a nap. It was 6:30 at night and I set my alarm for 9 p.m. so I could go to Tesco and buy some food. I didn't wake up until 9 a.m. the next day and managed to sleep through EU daylight savings also! And now I sit in Bratislava's old town in a cafe off of the main square.

It is quite nice and compact here. The Bratislava city marathon is happening right now too, which is pretty cool to see. It is around 50F (10C) today and cloudless. I really like the way that the light hits the trees. You can tell that the buds are about to bloom, but needs more sunlight and time. Give it one more week. I hope that Bratislava grows on me. I want to like it, but it is pretty dumpy by and large. I began this entry sitting in a McDonalds (!) drinking a coffee. Now I am having lunch in a niceish bistro. There are huge quotes from T.S. Eliot on the wall in from of me. A pretty hip place in the decidedly unhip Bratislava. Ordered Miranda (similar to Fanta), a double espresso, and a prosciutto pannini sandwich. Not bad for the equivalent of four(ish) dollars (150 crowns)!I wanted to have some food in my stomach before trekking up to the castle that looms over the entire city like a gatekeeper.

Tonight will be super, super early. Shower, laundry, bed. Up at 6 a.m. to catch a bus to Vienna at 8. From there, I will be taking a train across the Austrian countryside to Salzburg. If nothing else, Bratislava gives me the opportunity to recharge my batteries before the last leg of the tour. I cannot help but think about all of the new friends who I have met while on this tour. It hurts to make connections with people and leave them the next day or the day after that. Perhaps I get too easily attached. I just love people that much. I love their quirks and stories. I love spontaneity. I also know that I am loving all of this time alone because it is helping me to learn more about myself and where I come from, literally. Now I realize why Bedrick Skorepa (my grandmother's father), Pavel Mako (my grandfather's father), and Zsusanna (my grandfather's mother) left the old country for a better life in the U.S. In my eyes, Bratislava is the frumpy girl or guy who has endless potential to be beautiful/handsome/what have you, but is still figuring out an identity, still getting there. Maybe in a few years, Bratislava will be a new Euro hot spot. It is great to see few tourists here though. I like being off the beaten path.
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6:44 p.m. Bratislava, Patio Hostel lounge

I visited the castle, or as it is referred to in Slovak, the Hrad. To get there, you have to walk up this steep hill in a residential neighborhood. I enjoyed the graffiti along the way, most notably a cow with a pink smiley face tagged onto it. Very Warhol. Once I reached the top, I was impressed, but it is not what you may think. This is no chateau, but rather a decrepit fortress. The real draw was the view over Bratislava's new town. Miles upon miles of bleak, Soviet style bloc apartments. White, short, and sprawling. The housing remained after Czechoslovakia separated once and for all in 1993's "Velvet Divorce." Some have been painted bright colors to make them more appealing, but the skeletons from Slovakia's communist past are still there. At least they are out of the closet, so to speak, and incorporate their difficult past into the present. This is part of an historical past that cannot be shaken. It was breathtaking, the way that the houses stand like tin soldiers in line.

Later in the day, I made my way back to the hostel to shower, stock up on food at Tesco, and eat in the old square. I love Tesco for the prices and the bizarre set up. The area that I walked into was more like a kiosk than part of a grocery store. I mean, why not have the same items in the store? I felt like the sandwiches and drinks were ghettoized. Oh, Slovakia! I was proud that I completed another transaction completely in Slovak. People watching in the square while eating my finds at Tesco was great. Three old world nuns taking garbage out (one was driving a massive van), two boys on the bench beside mine listening to Slovak hip hop on an iPhone, a lady younger than my mom wearing a babushka, and several young professionals on their laptops. Now I am in the hostel drinking more Nescafe even though it is awful. It is hard being a slave to coffee when there is no coffee to be had.

Laundry was interesting. The only clean clothes that I had were my new "Slovensko" t-shirt and yellow athletic shorts. I went to the common area to check my e-mail, but the computer froze on me so I had to re-boot. It still wasn't working. A girl was waiting to get on and I was embarrassed. She seemed ticked off, rightfully so. I found out later that she is in my hostel room! It gets even better. The washer malfunctioned and she came in to do her laundry with the guy that she was traveling with. They were friendly though, both are from Brazil and are traveling around Europe for at least three more weeks. I had a conversation with the guy about Prague and how much we both loved it. After the washer ordeal (it finally opened), I bought a pint of Corgon (awful Slovak beer) and read for a while, but had a bit of difficulty because of the loud Spanish-speaking teenagers in the common room who were channel surfing forever.

This whole leg of the trip has been a farce. It is such great comedy that I am even here, trying to make sense of everything. Part of me should have stayed in Prague with Alix and Hanna, but I am glad to be struggling through this. It is an experience that I cannot forget. Even if I tired to, it wouldn't let me.

29.03.08 Bus from Prague-Bratislava Part III

The night began with dinner at a cool pub near our hostel. Me, Alix, and Hanna had a great time. I had a pilsner and they had Mojitos I think (?) Alix did anyway. She was really into them! We caught up on the day's happenings and learned a lot about each other's lives. They told me about their semesters studying in Cork and about Minnesota. Apparently, Hanna grew up near Duluth, MN, which is home to one of my favorite bands of all-time, Low! Go see them if you have the chance. They are unreal.

At the pub, there was a girl/guy duo playing. They are alright. We thought that they were Czech at first, but found out that they were probably North Americans by their accents. Perhaps they were students abroad, who knows. It made Alix and I think more about what we were going to name our band. After dinner, we walked back to our crappy hostel to figure out what to do. It was probably the worst hostel that I have ever stayed in. The showers are filthy, the toilets are worse, the beds are made so cheaply that I rock it when I get out of bed, the staircase is drafty, and the lights always go out unexpectedly. A charmer, right? But for all that it's worth, they have a Nescafe machine and they give you *something* in the morning, even if it is only bread, jam, and coffee. So we sat in our vestibule/common area with these two Mexican guys (ones our age, not the old Darth Vader snorers in our dorm room) and two socially awkward, engineering types who are French and speak little English. The Mexican guys were very cool, as were the French guy from Orleans. The Mexican guys spoke English and we communicated with the others in a bit of French, as well as in charades.

I looked at my watch after a while and it was near midnight. I had an 8 a.m. bus to catch to Bratislava (the one that I am writing on right now). Against my better judgment, I went out to a club with all of them. It was advertised as "the largest club in Central Europe!" HA! So we stroll through the clear Prague night, feeling every cobble beneath our feet. We find the place, which is in old town, in about 40 minutes. It is only 120 crowns to get int (about five bucks). The floor was sticky with who knows what. It makes matters more bizarre that there was a *coat check!* A coat check in this dump. Each of the, count them, FIVE floors had a different style of music pumping. Trashy 80s, 90s, hip hop, and I quote, "chill out" music. There were seizure-inducing lights that reminded me of laser tag in seventh grade, only all of these seventh graders were drinking and smoking like chimneys. Seriously, we were some of the older people there.

So many of the kids looked 16 or younger. There were the occasional creeper middle-aged guys too. One came out of nowhere! Red polo, Magnum P.I. stache, disheveled hair...pedophile? Alix and I kept making up stories about this guy and all of the unattractive teenagers making out everywhere. It was 3:30 a.m. by the time that we decided to walk back. My bus was at 8 a.m., mind you. I had to wake up at 6:30 to make it to the station in enough time. Walking back was sad because I knew that I probably wouldn't see Alix or Hanna in the morning. Again, I hate connecting with people and having to leave them behind. The constant togetherness/loneliness is the path that I chose going at this alone though. I wasn't tired when we returned to the hostel and checked my e-mail. After a few minutes, I shambled up the dark staircase to my bed. Hanna was around and we had a quiet moment without much to say. It was just sad because I knew that I wanted to travel with them and they wanted to travel with me as well I think. Hey, Minnesota isn't too far from where I live. I foresee gigs there in the future!

By morning, (or rather, two hours later) I quickly left notes for Alix and Hanna and rested the paper scraps by their beds because they were sleeping. 30 seconds later, I vanished into the Prague new town labyrinth to make it to my metro and find the Florenc [FLOOR-ENSS] bus station. I made it to Florenc, but could not for the life of me find the station. I asked a woman in broken Czech where it was and she did not know. Trying to to freak out, I found a guy with a pack and thought that he was also a traveler who might know. He turned out to be a local, but was friendly enough to walk me to the station, which was not far from where we were. I thanked him in Czech and arrived at my platform with 30 minutes to spare. I hope that next time, I will have someone to travel with. Any takers?

29.03.08 Bus from Prague-Bratislava Part II

The Czech National Museum was a mish mash of marble ceilings, bronze statues of notable Bohemians, stuffed animals (including an elephant), and hominid bones. I don't get it either---no rhyme or reason. I wandered around the decadent interior for a bit and felt really uneasy in the room full of stuffed creatures. I wonder how long it took to stuff the elephant or cheetah...

Birds, marsupials, tiny mammals, rodents. You name it and it was in this museum and stuffed. I shook my head and said "No, I think I'll pass," and made my way to old town, a 20 minute walk. It is beyond words when there aren't horrendous crowds of gawking past-their-prime tourists who get off of the motor coach with their black socks, Teva sandals, white khaki shorts, and huge Konica cameras from the 80s. Most just ogle, few seem to take any of it in or care. I hope that I am not that ambivalent when I grow old.

There were some jazz musicians playing swing tunes and I took some audio samples. I have been collecting field recordings all week for future songs. The glockenspiel's brooding chime from Munich would be a good fit. I hope that I can use these guys in a song too. For all of you meat eaters, Prague (and Eastern Europe in general) is heaven. You can get a kielbasa on baguette bread with fixens for, like, $1.25, if that. It really hit the spot, as I sat on a bench people watching in old town with some Asian tourists.

I was apalled by the crowds at the Charles Bridge, so I made my way back to the hostel wandering the labyrinth and picking up some items for my family and Jamie. I wish that I could have gotten up early enough to hit the bridge at its best---naked. Vacant. Without the oglers.

Nevertheless, the views over Prague and the Vltava River are nothing short of heaven on Earth. Each side of the bridge is flanked by enormous statues of Jesus, Mary, etc. The oldest part of the city hits you after crossing the Charles. Past and present blend seamlessly into something of an urban majesty unrivaled elsewhere in the world. It is a work of art in and of itself, unscathed by either world wars, or of wars' past. I spent more time here the day before with Gennelle and Jean, when we went to the massive castle complex. The lines to get into the castle were easily two hours long, so we wandered and bought tickets into the other buildings like St. Peter's Basilica. I thought that the torture chambers were the most bizarre part of the entire area. There was this huge iron circle, accessible only through a narrow, chute-like spiral staircase. It fit every dungeon stereotype, and was probably more heinous! Prisoners were lowered into "the pit" to their death. I don't know how fast bones decompose if ever, but there were some remains---who knows if they were fake though.

After a quick snack, we walked onward to the Franz Kafka Museum. I was so excited because Kafka is by far one of my favorite fiction writers. I was surprised with how modern the entire exhibit was. Many of the rooms meandered in bizarre shapes and were filled with artifacts from his brief and brilliant career. Most notably with his handwritten letters to friends, lovers, and publishers. The setup was peculiar, but very cool---many sculpted and featureless filing cabinets containing the names of his works and displays in the opened cabinets. It was a really creative concept, though after attempting to open the other filing cabinets, I was unsuccessful, as was Gennelle. A bit embarrassing! I love minimalist art.

Seeing the original manuscripts of The Metamorphosis, The Trial, In the Penal Colony, and The Hunger Artist made the trip completely worth it. It was impressive all around and was my favorite museum in Prague. Rest in peace, Franzy!

I miss Gennelle and Jean a lot. They went off to Poland (more specifically, Krakow) on Thursday. But I had a great day wandering solo the next day too. At night, things got interesting. Very interesting...